


It Was you

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Christmastime Harry reflects on how he and Draco got where they are, and takes that final step to make it more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was you

As Harry looks around the living room, at the remnants of wrapping paper and empty bowls and cups scattered throughout the room, with the Christmas carols still playing softly on the wireless in the background, he can not help but think it has been one of his best Christmases yet.

He can still remember that first Christmas after the war, when things were still so very broken and fragile. Everyone had wanted, no _needed_ , to celebrate and move on but it had felt so fake and so forced. While they had all been so grateful to be alive and free, while he had been so grateful, it hadn't felt real. He had watched it all with a hollow sort of feeling inside as if that magic, not the real kind made of wands and words, but the kind of magic made up of hope and belief that a child carries in their heart, might never come back to him. It had been hard to realize that happiness did not automatically come with winning the war.

He can also remember his first Christmas with Draco just a few years later. That had been nearly three years ago now, but just a few short months after they had actually started dating. He will never forget the look of surprise on Draco's face when he'd opened his own Weasley jumper that day, a soft chunky thing in a deep emerald green. He hadn't been sure what to expect, no one really had. But even better than the look of pleasure that had appeared on Draco's face had been the looks of utter shock on Ron and Molly's face when Draco had put it on almost immediately with a polite yet soft thank you. Harry's heart had clenched almost painfully that day as he'd watched Draco find his way, still so very proud and with such a sharp and sarcastic tongue, but softer somehow and gentler.

Remembering it now he thinks that it had probably all been just as much of a surprise to him as it had been to Ron and Hermione and everyone else when he'd fallen in love with Draco Malfoy, but they had taken it in stride just as they did everything else about Harry. Just like when he had come out as bisexual a few months after breaking up with Ginny, or like how they had both just smiled almost knowingly when just a few months after that he had up and quit the Aurors with no warning to travel the world.

Which incidentally, is how he'd found Draco one day, sitting just outside a muggle cafe in Italy eating gelato and watching pigeons. He had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight and had simply stared for long minutes unable to deny that something about it had made him _feel_ , and though he hadn't been sure what exactly he was feeling or what it had meant, he'd known it was the first time he'd felt any real emotion since the end of the war. And so on a whim he'd bought his own gelato and sat down next to Draco who hadn't said a single word to Harry, or really even acknowledged his presence. All the same it hadn't been an awkward or stilted silence, in fact it had been some of the most peaceful moments of Harry's life.

The next day after much internal deliberation Harry had returned to find Draco in exactly the same place, this time reading the newspaper and drinking an espresso. Harry had walked over slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, entirely unsure of what to do or say when Draco had simply shifted his paper without looking at him, folding his paper in half to reveal a second steaming cup of espresso. Without a word he'd slid it across the table to Harry who had sat down immediately and wordlessly accepted the drink along with a section of the newspaper. Harry certainly didn't speak Italian, but still he opened it up and smiled as he stared at the other man over his paper and pretended to read. The coffee was bitter and sweet, and as he continued to stare at Draco under the guise of perusing the paper, as the the sounds of children laughing and pages crinkling filled his ears, something dark and tight in his heart began to unwind.

On and on they'd gone like that for days until one of them finally spoke, although to this day Harry still can't quite be sure who had actually said something first. He just knows that one moment they were silent companions sharing sweets and newspapers and watching tourists, and the next moment they were spilling their secrets and fears, each one of them saying things he wasn't sure would ever be spoken aloud. It was almost funny because while they'd easily gone days without speaking, once the talking had started it didn't seem like it would ever stop. Even more surprising was the fact that Harry didn't think he wanted it too.

Sure enough every day after that there was Draco, rain or shine, on what had become their bench, two ice cream cones or coffees in his hands and the beginnings of a smile on his face. And the more they talked the lighter Harry felt until one day, after nearly two months in Italy, Harry suddenly realized that it was the longest he'd been in one place in almost a year. That uncomfortable tightness in his chest was gone. No longer did he feel that scratch in the back of his mind telling him to keep moving, to keep _searching_. 

Until one day, when he'd sat down next to Draco just a little bit closer than normal, and then Draco had scooted just a little bit closer too. They hadn't spoken much that day, just sat together companionably as if words were unnecessary, and as they'd watched the sun set over the town square Harry found his own hand reaching out towards Draco who had leaned his shoulder against his as their fingers tangled together.

In that moment something small and hidden away inside of him had broken, but for the first time since Harry had left England he knew things would be ok.

And just like that, in the most unexpected place and in the most unexpected way, Harry had found exactly what he needed.

A few months later, after mutually deciding that they'd both spent enough time running away, they found themselves back home celebrating Christmas at the burrow. Harry had worried how that fragile thing they'd started in Italy would fare when faced with the pressures back home, and their friends and family; when faced with the reality of their pasts. But he'd learned that Christmas Day that he needn't have worried because what they had was not fragile, and neither were they, not anymore.

"Hey, what're you thinking about," Draco whispers, distracting Harry from his thoughts as he wraps his arms around Harry from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

"What makes you think I was thinking anything?"

"Please, you've been staring at the Christmas tree and smiling for the last twenty minutes. Whatever you've been thinking about must be good, and don't say nothing because you're a retched liar, Harry."

"Do you really wanna know what I was thinking?"

"Generally speaking I don't ask questions I don't want answers to," Draco says teasingly, his hands roaming up and down over Harry's chest in a rather soothing manner.

"I was just wondering why you aren't my husband already," he answers softly, pulling out of Draco's arms to turn around and look him in the eyes. He can count on one hand the number of times he's managed to surprise the other man and this is definitely one of them.

"I was thinking," Harry starts again, dropping down onto one knee and pulling a small gold box out of his pocket, "that you've seen me at my best and at my worst and that you've been a part of almost every major thing that's happened in my life. I was thinking that my life started over the day I met you again, and that all of the moments since have been the best days of my life and I want more of them. I want more of everything with you and I want it all. I was thinking that I've never loved anyone the way I love you. And now I'm thinking that you not moving or saying anything is making me nervous so I'm just gonna say it....Draco Malfoy will you Marry-" but Harry never gets to finish his proposal because before he can get the final word out Draco has knocked him to the floor with a loud thud.

"Yes you fucking prat, YES!" Draco shouts and Harry wonders if he should be concerned that Draco is wavering somewhere between laughter and tears as he kisses Harry as if his very life depended on. Draco hands are everywhere, on his chest and his hands and his face before settling in his hair as he kisses him again hard enough that Harry can barely breathe.

"Fucking prat?" He finally gasps out with a small laugh, trailing his own fingers up Draco's neck to cup his face, soaking up the way Draco's eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light.

"Yes, you wanker, Do you have any idea how long I've been planning to propose to _you_ tonight?!" He yells, laughing a bit manically before reaching down into his trousers and pulling out a rather identical looking gold box. When he opens it Harry is both surprised and pleased to see a rather simple gold band, not unlike the one he'd pick out for Draco.

Harry feels any semblance of emotional control he still had slipping away as he splutters out a "You...you-"

"Yes, _me_. I had a rather grand romantic gesture planned for you too but you had to go and spoil it, always got to beat me to it don't you, Potter."

Harry opens his mouth to say something sappy about how Draco already won when he won his heart but he can't quit get the words out. Not when he's laying there with Draco on top of him, staring down at him like that. Draco. His Draco who looks close to tears himself, his eyes bright and his face alight with happiness, and looking down at Harry as if he was everything he ever wanted.

"I love you," Draco whispers, leaning down to steal Harry's lips in another kiss that taste of mulled wine and peppermint. And Harry feels like me might drown in this feeling; this sense of being loved and wanted so completely and equally.

"I love you," he whispers back, because they are the only words that matter.

And it is in that moment that Harry knows with utter certainly that magic, not of the Wizarding world but the kind he'd dreamed of as a child in his cupboard, the magic of hope and love was real.


End file.
